This Is Even Blacker Than Skinner Zhou!

Fang Mo carried the heavy Water-Fire Cudgel, its tip scraping the ground with a harsh screech as he followed Old Huang deeper into Block C.

The corridor was even darker than outside. The Luminous Pearls embedded in the walls on either side looked like cataract-clouded eyeballs, giving off a ghastly, deathly white glow. The air was so damp one could wring water from it; every breath carried a moldy stench that drilled straight into his lungs.

"Xiao Mo, watch your step."

Without looking back, Old Huang carried a dim Oil Lamp in his hand. His footsteps made not the slightest sound upon the slick Bluestone Slabs.

"Our Block C prison ranks fairly high in the entire Heavenly Prison. By the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches, Block C comes after Blocks A and B. Block C prison has twelve rooms. You saw that Smiling Tiger Li Yan just now—he's the Chief Prison Warden of Block C prison, overseeing this One Acre of Land of ours."

As they walked, Old Huang rambled on, passing down the survival lessons he had learned over more than thirty years in the Heavenly Prison.

"Our Room Nine is formally called Block C, Room Shen prison. You saw the staffing list too: ten Jailers at full count, plus your Uncle Wang, the warden. Sounds like plenty of people, but the territory we manage isn't small—eighty-one cells in total."

Fang Mo raised an eyebrow. Eighty-one?

He glanced through the bars on either side. It was pitch-black within; now and then, he could hear heavy breathing or the clatter of dragging chains, sounds that made his teeth ache.

"Five cells are vacant now. Every other pit is filled."

Old Huang pointed at a locked cell on the left and lowered his voice.

"The criminals held here all have their own stories. Broadly speaking, they fall into two categories."

"One category is officials who got into trouble at the Imperial Court. Their ranks are neither too high nor too low—below third rank, above seventh rank. Our little temple can't contain officials too great, while the ones too minor are just small fish and shrimps, not enough to fill a tooth gap."

"The other category is those Martial Artists from the jianghu who love nothing more than fighting."

At that, Old Huang halted and turned around. A meaningful smile appeared on his wrinkled old face.

"Anyone below the Qi Gathering Realm is kept here."

Fang Mo's Thick Skin twitched.

The Qi Gathering Realm?

Over the past two days, he had crammed himself full of basic martial knowledge from this world.

There were nine realms of martial arts, each step a layer of heaven. The first five were foundational: Qi and Blood, Bone Tempering, Organ Refining, Meridian Opening, and Qi Gathering.

He had only just touched the threshold of the Qi and Blood Realm, and that was thanks to the "kind-hearted" Brother Wang Ergou's contribution. If he trained step by step, who knew what year of the monkey or month of the horse it would be before he reached Qi Gathering?

Pick anyone at random from this Heavenly Prison, and they might be able to crush him to death with a single finger.

"Xiao Mo, don't make that face." Old Huang seemed to have seen through his thoughts. He patted Fang Mo's shoulder. "That was before. Once they enter here, their pipa bones are pierced and their Dantian destroyed. Qi Gathering, Meridian Opening—doesn't matter what realm they're in. A dragon has to coil up; a tiger has to lie down."

"As for the realms beyond that, I don't know, and there's no need for you to know. Those are matters for the lords in Block A prison and Block B prison to worry about."

Fang Mo nodded thoughtfully.

"Nine great realms..."

He tightened his grip on the Water-Fire Cudgel, his knuckles turning slightly white.

The road ahead was long, and the burden heavy.

The two continued onward. The ground gradually sloped downward, and the moldy smell in the air faded, replaced by a strange fragrance, like costly face powder mixed with sandalwood.

"I mentioned those two categories earlier. Those officials in the first category are our Gods of Wealth."

Old Huang pointed at a cell ahead that looked rather "distinctive."

"Most of these people are victims of Imperial Court struggles, or they were caught for embezzlement. So long as they haven't been sentenced to immediate execution, perhaps one day the emperor will be in a good mood, or their families will pull some strings, and they'll be out within days."

"They pay for comfort, and we offer a few conveniences." Old Huang rubbed his fingers together, the gesture so practiced it was almost heartbreaking. "As the saying goes, make things convenient for others, and things become convenient for yourself."

As he spoke, the two had already stopped outside that cell.

Fang Mo craned his head for a look. Good lord, now this was professional.

This was no prison sentence. This was plainly a vacation.

The floor was covered in a thick wool carpet, likely soft enough to swallow one's feet. A Golden Silk Nanmu Wood Eight Immortals Table stood in the middle, fully furnished with a Zisha Pot and fine porcelain bowls. In the corner, there was even a bronze auspicious-beast incense burner, wisps of smoke curling upward and driving every trace of moldy odor from the cell.

The bed was laid with brocade quilts and bedding. This treatment was over a hundred times better than the hard plank bed in his home.

"Lord Zhao, resting?"

Old Huang piled his face with his trademark simpleton's grin and cupped his hands through the bars.

Inside the cell, a plump, round-bodied fat man was reclining in a Grand Tutor Chair with his eyes closed. His build could rival Wang Youan's. Hearing the movement, he lifted his Eyelids. A sharp gleam flashed in those tiny eyes squeezed into slits by fat; he looked nothing like a Prisoner.

"Oh, Master Huang is here."

The fat man sprang briskly out of the chair, moving with an agility that did not belong to someone weighing several hundred jin.

"This is the new brother?"

Zhao Guangcai smiled as he sized Fang Mo up. His gaze circled Fang Mo's absurdly young face before finally settling on the waist token that marked him as a Jailer.